It's Over
by Twillight Bunny
Summary: The rage just took over. Deathfic.


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter...

* * *

She pulls away, staring silently at the ground as she does.

She won't look at him, no, because that would mean she'd have to see what she has done, and right now she isn't sure if she can manage that.

"What?" is all he can think to say, the word sounding pathetic even to his own ears. He tries to put his arm around her, childishly thinking this was something a simple hug could fix, that the sheer force of his affection, translated into that one gesture would make her stop and take back those words she had uttered not ten seconds ago.

She shrugs it off, still avoiding his eyes.

No.

He couldn't lose her. Sure, when they had started this little game of theirs, he had been certain it was purely physical- a grope in the hallway, make-out sessions in the broom cupboard on the third floor hallway, nights spent 'tutoring' which ended up with her under him, screaming his name with her hands pinned to the headboard under his own, her legs spread wide as he spilled his seed into her with savage thrusts.

It had been so easy, and for a while everything had been good. Then, one night when she had come over, even when he tried to hide it she knew immediately that something was wrong.

That giggling whisper, the greeting she always used when they met for one of their trysts in the middle of the night, had died almost instantaneously in her throat when she saw the gash Draco had inflicted on him this time. Those brown eyes widening, she had carefully inspected the wound, her jaw hardening when she noticed him wincing under the delicate touch of her fingers.

Drawing her wand, she had muttered a spell, the words quietly spoken yet losing none of their arcane mystique. The flesh had knitted together, the magic feeling cool against the hot skin of his cheek. All that remained of the injury was a small scar, the patch of tissue hardly even noticeable, a tiny reminder of that day.

She had looked at him, and he had returned the gaze, and in that moment he just _knew_.

They didn't fuck that night. They had _made love,_ and he had treated her with a tenderness he thought until then incapable of himself. He began to relish the idea of knowing her, and to his surprise he found out they had quite a lot in common. The weeks that followed were bliss for him, happy days spent with her- laughing, talking, doing research together in the library, followed by nights of pure passion, heightened only by the intensity of emotion he felt for her.

He loved her, and everything had been perfect. And then...

" _I think we should stop this."_

The words still ring in his head, and for a moment he wonders if by chance they had become garbled by his own ears.

Maybe he _is _just as stupid as everyone makes him out to be, and she had meant something completely different. Yet if that was the case, why wouldn't she look at him? Why wouldn't she let him touch her, when she had so freely allowed him to before? He knows her well enough by now to see when she is upset, and judging from the way her whole body trembles slightly, she is.

He tries again. " 'Mione, s'wrong?" the words leave his lips, made thick by his uncertainty. She shudders a little at the sound of his voice, hurt and confusion dripping from every syllable, then gathers herself for the reply. For a moment, only silence hangs between them as she struggles to put the words together, to somehow make him understand how terrible this entire exercise is for her. Everything is worse because it's all her fault, and she really has no one to blame but herself.

All he had ever done was love her, and worship the ground she walked on, and she was certain there were people in Hogwarts who wished to find someone like that. The time they had spent together had been fun, no doubt about that, but she had begun to feel choked by him, his constant presence charming at first, then slowly oppressive, till she felt as though he was strangling her with even a simple look from across the room.

It was all too much, and lately she had begun to miss the days where their relationship was nothing more than a dirty little secret.

She felt bad about that, because he obviously loved her, and breaking someone's heart like she was about to made her feel awful about herself. Still, at least she had _tried_ to make it work, she really did, though the level of commitment he wanted from her was truly frightening.

She clears her throat: "Look, Gregory..." she begins.

He stiffens at that, not entirely liking the way she used his full name instead of her usual 'Greg'. She hadn't called him that in a long while. He runs a hand through his short black hair, the feeling of those bristles under his hand usually calming him, but not today."_Gregory_." she says again, pointedly looking at him.

Better make this fast.

" I don't love you anymore." she says, her voice quiet and steady, as though she was simply explaining a slightly complicated charm instead of crushing his heart into a million tiny pieces. The slight tremor at the end went unnoticed by him.

This couldn't be happening.

Not now, not like this. They were supposed to be together forever, and now she was telling him something so ludicrous it had to be a lie. A complete and utter lie. She studies him, her courage retuning to her slowly once she has released the horrible guilt which twisted her insides for the past three days. Saying nothing, he stands still, like a statue.

His eyes have gone wide, those blue-grey orbs suddenly staring into space glassily. His lips part slightly, and even from where she stands she can hear the harsh breaths escape them loudly,the sound seemingly amplified in the secret room they were now in.

She turns around, making to leave the dark room she stands in, hoping to get away before he starts asking her questions.

Questions she knows will only make him hurt even more, because as much as he wants to she could never be what he wanted. She never expects him to react like that, though. An almost bestial roar rises up from deep inside him, making her jump as he draws his wand and points it dangerously at her. Before she has time to even think, to even turn around, the spell leaves his lips, his tone suddenly devoid of any emotion whatsoever. In an instant, it's all over :

_Avada Kadevra_.

* * *

A/N: Mwahahaha! How was that? I dunno, I just felt like doing this...Anyways, R&R, okay


End file.
